Boo & Kitten
by IsabelleHayven
Summary: Faith has to babysit. Maybe her charge will take care of her too.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing singsong

**Notes:** This is really not scary at all. Faith has to babysit the least likely of kids, and it seems maybe he'll take care of her too. Faith's POV

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I dunno why they left him with me. They don't trust me as far as they can spit me but they left him with me. I'd guess his age around five or so. He's pretty cute for a brat; soft sandy blond hair you just know was white blond when he was a baby and will darken up to a beautiful brown when he grows up, these big, shinin' blue eyes that pretty much promise trouble. My kinda kid.

He has some vague memory of who he is… who he was before this… whatever the hell it was had happened. Spell or curse or whatever it was that made him this way. He stops in his circuit of the room in his imitation of a fighter pilot and studies me, head tilted, blue eyes filled with a confused concern. "Faith?" He asks quietly, standin' all still and calm like he hasn't been all night until now. "Am I not supposed to be taking care of you?"

I frown, taken by surprise. "Nah. I'm five by five, yo!" I attempt to assure him. "Besides. Yer too short to boss me around."

"Five by five!" He agrees merrily and resumes his running around the living room. I can't help but crack a smirk because thinkin' of him the way I know him… tall an' proper an' British an' all, the phrase takes on a whole new level of humor. I watch him clamber onto the couch and flash a brilliant smile at me. "Catch me!" He demands and immediately I move to comply. He climbs on the back of the couch and launches himself into the air, blindly trustin' I won't let him fall. He lands securely in my arms and he wraps his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. "I can too boss you around." He says smugly before landin' a loud kiss on my cheek.

I actually blush. "Nah. I just don't wanna listen t'B's preachin' if y'end up breakin' a bone or somethin' on my watch." I say gruffly, but despite my tone, I shift his weight and hold him close. We're at his house and I go to scope out his music collection. Most of it is pretty good – the old stuff. On vinyl. What a hoot. He's got some CDs though. I see RENT: Original Broadway Cast Recording. Broadway can't be bad for a kid. It's culture or whatever, right? So I grab the two-disc set and look around. "Okay, Boo. Where's the player?"

"Boo?" He asks me, playing with my hair.

"Yeah… all brats need a nickname and yer right sneaky… like a ghost. So … Boo." I try to make it no big deal but he grins and kisses me once more then squirms from my arms and shows me where the CD player is. I pop the CD in and before long we're dancin' around the living room like a pair of monkeys on crack. I, for one, never knew Broadway could be so cool. They swear, man! Anyway, by the time 'La Vie Boheme' comes on, he's drinkin' Kool Aid from a sippy cup and I'm drinkin' his good scotch from a coffee mug. It's late but he's on a sugar high an' I'm rather likin' spendin' time with someone who ain't starin' at me like I'm gonna come at 'em with a knife. I put on the second CD and he watches me with this grin. His smile is like an infection an' I start smilin' too. As happy as he's makin' me… I'm gettin' sad too. He's supposed to be an adult. He's supposed to be lookin' at me all reproachful instead of with that trust in his eyes. I down the scotch and put the cup on the table. We been askin' each other weird questions all night an' I return to this game to distract me from my own head. "So… what's VCR stand for anyway?" I ask him.

"Video Cassette Recorder." He replies with certainty. "Have you ever been to England? It's nice there."

I move to sit on the sofa. "Nope." Almost… they almost got me to England once – I shudder at the memory. "You think openin' a restaurant in Santa Fe would be fun?"

"Not really. I like it here." He climbs on my lap and instinctively I stroke his hair. "How come Buffy said you were a ticking time bomb?"

I close my eyes briefly and breathe in slowly. "She doesn't like me much." I let my gaze move to the fan, oscillating slow an' steady. I won't blow with this kid in my arms. I won't blow when the man he's supposed to be might see I'm not all bad. "I've done some really bad things. Guess she figures I'll do 'em again."

He frowns and puts his little hands on my face. "I think you're just scared inside. Like some kitten alone in the dark." He tells me and kisses me for the third time, gentle… like a parent to a child, comforting and soothin'.

I smirk, refusin' to cry, and pinch his cheeks. "How come you don't got a computer?"

He huffs and folds his arms over his chest. "Idiot boxes." He snaps and it's completely the Rupert Giles I know in this little boy body and I start laughin' until tears are streamin' down my face.

"I love you, Boo."

"I love you too, Kitten."

He yawns so I pick him up and take him to his room an' tuck him in. He wants me to stay so I lay beside him and close my eyes. Just for now… just until B gets back…

Mornin' comes an' I feel hands, soft and warm and large, pushing my hair from my face. I open my eyes and Giles is himself – an adult, lookin' down at me with some sort of knowin' patience he's never bestowed on me before. "Good morning, Kitten."

I blink an' a smile starts creepin' onto my face – I dare say a shy smile at that. "Mornin', Boo."


End file.
